Give and Take
by corneroffandom
Summary: Late summer 2014, TNA's future isn't the only thing that hangs in the balance.


Spud takes a breath as he nods, handing over Ethan's credit card to the waitress, waiting for the confirmation of payment and receipt. They'd just had lunch in downtown Nashville, Ethan leaving to make his way to the car, too impatient to wait. Things had been strange lately with talks between TNA and Spike TV falling apart, the entire roster feeling the pressure. But none more so than Spud; his time in the States depends on his having a job here, his work visa in danger of being revoked should this stop being a reality. As much as he loves his home country, he's not ready to leave, especially if it means never seeing the Carters again.

Shaking his head to focus on the reality of the moment, he takes the slip of paper from the woman, sneaking a peek at the total, whistling slowly through his teeth before he jabs it into his pocket and goes outside to look for Ethan. The parking garage for this restaurant, for whatever reason, is across the street, so Ethan had been waiting until the light was in his favor to cross, which happens just as Spud walks out of the building. He picks up speed to hopefully catch up with his employer before the lights change again when he spots it- a car racing down the otherwise quiet street, the driver clearly not paying attention and... dammit, Ethan's staring at his phone as he goes, also unaware of- ...

Spud pales. "SIR!" His legs working faster than they ever have before, he wills himself to hurry, pick up more speed, and- He's there, arms lifted to push Ethan with all of the strength he can muster- which, considering Ethan has a good hundred pounds on him, seems impossible but somehow... adrenaline, determination, whatever else sees him through as he pushes his best friend clean out of the way, though his forward motion dies away quickly and he's just seen the third generation Carter stumble onto the sidewalk, safe, before he looks up, receiving a split second view of the car still careening towards the intersection that he's currently frozen in the middle of. _Bollocks..._

Everything goes dark.

-x

"SPUD!" Ethan yells, his phone crushed in pieces against the cement at his feet. He's just turned to scream at the other man for pushing him and making him drop the valuable item when he stops short, realizing. "Shit- SPUD!" There's nothing to be done for it, the driver isn't even looking up, fiddling with something below the dash, and Spud is frozen, gaping at the automobile as it speeds towards him. Ethan blinks and it's over, the car slamming into Spud's body and sending him flying up and over the top of the vehicle with a horrible sound that Ethan is sure will haunt him for the rest of his life. The sound of squeeching brakes attracts his attention and he blinks, taking a numb step forward and another. The anticipation is almost as bad as the reality, but when he spots Spud, his knees buckle and he collapses right there, on the side of the street.

There's so much blood, and he looks so small, Ethan reminded brutally of this fact yet again as he stares blankly at the motionless shell of his best friend. Spud's always so loud and vibrant, his fashion sense and inner strength belying everything else about him, that sometimes Ethan forgets the size differences between them. Scrambling over the pavement, he crouches by Spud's broken body and hesitates, fingers hovering over his blood-stained hair. "No, no," he chokes out through dry lips. There are people around, murmuring and talking out loud and when he looks up, he realizes that a couple of people are on phones, calling 911, and he's relieved for it. His phone being in pieces feet away means that he won't be making any calls for awhile. "It's ok, it's ok," he tells Spud. "I'll forgive you for the phone, just open your eyes, alright?"

There's no answer and he cries, leaning over his best friend and ignoring the smell of the blood, the feel of it on his skin. "Hang in there, man, help's coming," he whispers into Spud's ear, not wanting to touch him and risk making his injuries worse- head? spinal? who knows?- but needing him to know that he's not alone. "Aunt D and I, we'll- we'll make sure you get the best care, I promise. You won't want for anything." He sucks in a deep, painful breath. "You saved my damn life, man. So you can't give up now, till I can properly thank you. C'mon, Spud." He chokes up again, the next words hard to spit out. "You gotta... you gotta be... a tiger, remember? And- and a lion." Tears are pouring down his face, mingling with the blood on Spud's face and making it trail down in pink streaks. "And a gazelle. Can't forget that one, right? I think a gazelle fits you better. You have the courage of a tiger and the determination of a lion, but everything else... total gazelle."

He thinks he can hear sirens in the distance, but he also thinks he's losing his mind so that doesn't mean much right now. "That speed you musta picked up to push me out of the way like that? Impressive, man. Damn impressive. Someday, when you're- you're back on your feet and back doing what you do in the ring, when you're ready to stop being my aunt's chief of staff, I could see an impressive future for you in the ring. Yeah, you'd be a badass X-Division competitor, huh?" He smiles and stares into Spud's face, wishing he could see his blue eyes right now. "But there's time for that, we'll- we'll get you fixed up first," he whispers, looking up just as an ambulance pulls up a few feet away. "See, help's here. You're going to be ok."

Police are there too and one pulls him away as EMTs converge upon his best friend, Ethan struggling weakly as he stares down at the bustle that it takes to keep Spud with them. Half of the medical jargon evades him and the rest, he ignores because it hurts too much, listening to talk of blood loss and shock, Spud's vitals sounding horribly low doing nothing to comfort him. They put a body board under Spud, one of those damn neck braces back in place around his throat, and Ethan's overwhelmed by a sudden need to curse darkly, break something. Or someone... "Where is she?" he demands of the police still standing by him, clearly there to ensure he doesn't do something terrible.

They all shake their heads, their words meaningless to him, and he can see the woman's car through the sea of people. Trying to break through, he's just caught sight of who he thinks he'd seen driving distracted, cursing darkly. "Let me through!" he thinks he yells at the police holding him back, but he suspects, by the looks on their faces, that his voice and his struggles are actually weaker than they seem to be, his every breath seeming barely noticeable since catching sight of Spud, his lungs aching with the futility of it all. "Please..."

"Sir, we can't," a police officer tells him, his voice only just registering with Ethan. "Your friend's about to be transported."

_This_ catches Ethan's attention and he turns sharply, dashing back towards the ambulance. "Please- let me travel with him," he begs the EMTs. "Please, I can't leave him alone." They hesitate for a moment but Spud's in bad shape and there's no time to argue.

"Get in," one of the women orders him and he quickly rushes into the ambulance, finding himself stuffed in a corner as they work over the pale, lifeless form of his best friend, desperate to keep him breathing, his heart beating, until they can get him to the hospital. He looks so vulnerable and little that it tears at Ethan's soul, blood staining his clothes and hair until he can't tell where he begins and it ends. He wishes Dixie was there, the woman able like no other to get information, make things happen. He can't even think straight long enough to breathe, soon growing dizzy. The only reason he forces himself to inhale and exhale then is the realization that, should he collapse, it would take some of the focus off of his dying best friend and that, that just can't happen.

When they arrive at the hospital, he almost faceplants in the ambulance zone, barely able to get his feet underneath himself in time to race after the stretcher carrying his best friend inside. It disappears behind a curtain before he can follow it, a nurse doing what she can to keep him from following. "He's my best friend," he tells her beseechingly as she leads him back into the waiting area.

"I understand, sir, but the staff needs room to work to keep him with us," she tells him kindly. "Is there someone I can call for you while you, er, clean up a bit?" He doesn't understand until he looks down, finding blood splattered across his shirt, smeared across his jeans, staining his hands a gruesome brown as it dries. He starts to look ill and she guides his head down between his knees, rubbing his back with soft, murmured instructions to keep him from passing out or throwing up.

Once stronger, he looks up at her and finds Spud's phone in his hand- he doesn't even remember finding it, or how it arrived here with him-, holding it out to her. "Speed dial four," he says. "It's my aunt. She... Spud- James- works for her. She'll need... to know..." The woman nods, waiting to make the call until she has guided him to the bathroom, leaving him to wash up and change into some scrubs that she leaves with him. He stares at himself blankly in the mirror, not sure how to comprehend any of this. Only a couple of hours ago, Spud and he had been sitting in a restaurant, Spud in one of his garish suits, all eyes on him as they try to digest their food and the pattern on the fabric at the same time, and now...

He slams a fist against the sink and cries as he remembers how small Spud's hand had been in his, so cold and limp. "You sacrificial idiot," he breathes. "Why would you do that? What am I supposed to do if you... if you don't make it...?" Changing with numb fingers, he piles his clothes up in a tight ball before returning to the waiting area, staring at his shoes. The one piece of clothing of his not stained in Spud's blood, he's overwhelmed with relief as Spud had bought them for him a few weeks back after he'd scuffed his other pair of shoes during a brawl at the Impact Zone.

He doesn't realize how long he's been in there until he looks up and sees Dixie Carter racing towards him, her arms outstretched. He drops his clothes onto the overly shiny floor and allows her to cling to him, searching his face desperately before hugging him. "Spud saved my life, Aunt D," he breathes.

"Oh baby, I know," she responds weakly. "I know." She rocks him lightly like he's a little boy all over again, leading him over to the chairs. "The nurses say he's in surgery." _This_ breaks Ethan and he all but collapses into a seat, Dixie's guiding touch the only thing keeping him from spilling to the floor immediately. "He's strong, he's going to be fine, darlin'. Just gotta believe in that, alright?"

He nods, trying to believe in her words, but it's so hard when memories of Spud, lifeless and bleeding on the street, keep flashing through his mind. Dixie seems to take the cue from him, sitting there quietly and holding his hand while they wait. Serge calls a couple of times but for the most part, it's just them and the nurses and other people waiting for word on their loved ones. The other people change, nurses swapping as shifts end, families and anxious friends coming and going, but Ethan and Dixie remain where they are. The more time goes by, the more Ethan is sure that it's going to be bad news, his heart sinking painfully every time a nurse approaches them. But they're continually walked past, ignored for other people scattered around, and he starts to get angry on top of every other broken emotion he's feeling.

Nearly three hours have passed when finally a nurse stops next to them. "You came in with James Curtin?" she asks briskly, unbothered when Ethan looks up at her, his dark, red-rimmed eyes glaring into hers. "He's in recovery, the doctor will be out to talk to you momentarily."

"Recovery?" he mouths as she bustles off, about to get to his feet and chase after her for more answers... if not for Dixie's restraining grip on his forearm. They're still sitting there when a man in scrubs walks up to them, thankfully seeming friendlier than the nurse.

"Hello," he greets them, shaking their hands before settling in in the chair next to Dixie with a sigh and turning to face them. "By what I've been told, you are James Curtins' employer?"

"Yes, I am," Dixie says. "This is my nephew, he's his best friend... they were together when this happened... How is he?"

Ethan barely listens as the doctor explains away whiplash, possible head injury, broken arm and leg, and severe bruising up and down his body. He tunes out entirely at the mention of internal injuries, immediately knowing what the surgery was for at that point. Dixie's grip on his hand tightens with every word the man says and he's not sure if it's for her sake or to keep him in his seat, but the pain is welcome, keeping Ethan from completely shattering.

"May we see him?" she asks, her voice choked with tears and Ethan wonders when he'd last heard her cry. Perhaps when one of the boys had pneumonia and seemed so weak and young...

"After we get him in a private room," the doctor promises her. "I'll have a nurse tell you as soon as you can. It shouldn't be too long. Within the hour."

He leaves and they resume waiting. Until Spud wakes up, all of this will be nothing but a waiting game- waiting game to see if he has brain damage, if he will be himself when he opens his eyes... if he'll ever be able to wrestle again... The thought pisses Ethan off and he gets up, shaking Dixie's hand off before storming outside. He glares at the cloud-covered sky, digging his fingers through his hair. "Why him?" he demands. "What did he _ever_ do to deserve this?! Put my life ahead of his own?" He's nearly screaming now, everyone in the proximity stopping short to stare at him and he kicks out, roughly knocking a huge potted plant over, but Dixie is there, Dixie is hugging him and smoothly talking him out of trouble from offended hospital staff, explaining the situation.

They leave them with a warning, insisting they'll call the cops if he does anything else to damage property. She pulls back and cups his face, staring into his eyes. "You listen to me, Ethan Michael Carter the Third. I'm aware that this hurts, it hurts me too, but Spud _needs_ you right now, and if you get yourself kicked out of the hospital property, or arrested, then what will he think? Waking up to find you not there? You know he's sensitive, he'll think you hate him or consider him weak for getting hurt. Pull yourself together, when we get him home, you can let out your anger at anything on my grounds but not here, do you understand?" Her nails are digging into his jaw, her breathing about as ragged as his, but he nods. "Good. Good boy. Come on."

It's another long wait, Ethan desperate to ignore everyone wandering around, whispering and giving him strange looks. He focuses on Spud, even scrolling through his phone to look at old texts and tweets Spud had sent him. Things about TNA, stupid little Disney quotes, other random things that made him think of Ethan. So many things he'd been dismissive of, even belittling them sometimes. Right now, he'd give anything to get another of those damn Disney quotes. He's gone back nearly to when they'd first met and things were still mostly professional between them, Spud's innate nature overwhelming even back then- a need to be accepted, viewed as a friend, and not just as his aunt's Chief of Staff... And he had clawed and scratched to achieve just that, Ethan scrubbing at his face with desperate hands. "You hang in there and get stronger, I'll try to be nicer, I promise," he mutters, staring at his phone.

If Dixie hears, she doesn't respond but that could also be because a nurse approaches them then. "James is settled in his room now, you may sit with him for awhile." Dixie scrambles to her feet, Ethan numbly following, and they walk in a line down the hall to the room the nurse motions them towards. Ethan is pretty sure nothing could be worse than what he'd seen after the car accident itself but somehow, that first glance of Spud lost under a sea of wires and tubes living for him, what of his skin is visible being bruised where it's not paperwhite, causes Dixie to nearly crumble, Ethan this time grabbing _her_ and easing her into the chair next to Spud's bed.

The nurse brings them water, then ducks aside to check Spud's vitals before taking her leave to give them privacy once she's sure neither of them will pass out.

"Oh Spudsy," Dixie cries, finding his hand in the mess and carefully holding it. "I'm so sorry, darlin'. It's gonna be ok. I hope I didn't scare you." She strokes his bruised, scraped knuckles until she realizes that his hand, like the rest of him, is so badly beat up. "Poor boy. My poor little Spudsy." She sits quietly, murmuring to him, until she realizes that Ethan's been quiet behind her, watching on somberly and she gets to her feet, pushing the seat towards him. "Talk to him, Ethan. He needs to hear your voice, know you're alright."

Ethan's not alright, not even near, but he thinks he knows what she means. Wonders if, wherever Spud's at right now, he can remember that his attempt at saving Ethan had been a success or if he's trapped in some drugged hell where he thinks Ethan was hit by a car. Forgoing the seat, aware that Dixie needs it more than he does, he carefully sits down on the bed and ducks his head, examining the various tubes entering Spud's body. "I'm here, Spud. I'm right here." He smiles brokenly. "You saved my life, you know. You damn idiot." Dixie sputters in protest behind him but he ignores her, leaning his head down over his friend's battered body. "Why would you do that? I was never worth more than you... You can't always put me ahead of yourself, alright? Aunt D, fine, but me... no. Not like this. Between Angle and Willow and everything else, I've put you through enough." He looks up at Spud's barely recognizable, slack face. "No more, alright? No more..." His shoulders start to shake as fresh tears pour down his face. "But I know you can't do that, because I'm your best friend... just like you're mine, which is why I'm so pissed off at you." His words becoming indescipherable, Dixie's hand rests on his shoulder as he falls silent, unable to continue but unwilling to leave Spud's side.

They sit there, like that, quietly, through the night, the nurses not having it in them to ask them to leave, especially when they see the tears in their eyes.

In the morning, Dixie is sleeping curled up in a large chair, Ethan staring desperately at Spud as morning sun starts to peek through the curtains, lighting up each bruise and cut on Spud's pale face and hands, when the doctor they'd seen the night before returns to examine his surgical handiwork. Ethan watches him bustle around, cheerfully chattering to Spud as if he's not unconscious, as if he's awake and talking, and a strange kind of thankfulness leaves Ethan feeling a little dizzy. "Thank you," he manages to say to the doctor before he can leave the room, the man stopping to look back at him. "For saving him," he explains, lightly resting his hand on top of Spud's.

"You're welcome," he responds, hesitating. "I'll be back in to check on him later. He's a strong young man."

Ethan nods blankly as he turns and leaves, needing to continue his other rounds, before turning to look at Spud. "He's right," he murmurs. "You definitely are that." He's still sitting there when Dixie stirs and wakes up, padding over to them and resting a hand on top of Ethan's, which is still resting on Spud's. Her weak, sleepy smile does little to comfort Ethan.

She leaves, returns, with coffee from somewhere outside of the hospital and he envies her the ability to leave. He feels like, should he take his eyes off of Spud for a moment, the British man will disappear or stop functioning, so he stays within sight, even when the nurses make pointed comments that they need to tend to their patient.

Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days into a week and the bruises and cuts are healing nicely, some of the machines eased off of Spud. He can breathe on his own now, Ethan clinging to that bit of positivity every time he watches his chest rise and fall naturally. But he's not waking up and there's talk of moving him to a permanent care facility, Dixie looking into private care... when Ethan loses his temper for the first time since waking up into this nightmare, realizing that he has more problems than just a broken cell phone. Leaning closer to his best friend, he stares into his face. "You listen to me, Spud, I understand you've been through a lot, but I'm only patient for so long. You need to wake up, you need to stop worrying Aunt D." His voice falters when this doesn't seem to do anything, the anger leaching out of his voice as he realizes he's all but shouting at a man who's essentially comatose. His brain waves are steady, he just hasn't found it in himself to wake up yet. And the longer it takes for him to do so, the least likely he will. "You need to stop worrying _me_," he chokes out, tears pouring down his face for the third time in a week, the most time he's spent drowning in emotions since he was a clumsy little boy who kept falling and scabbing his knee on the playground.

It's easier to navigate the tubes and wires now, and Spud takes up so little space in the bed, so he adjusts what he needs to before sprawling out next to him on the bed and loosely draping an arm around his waist, allowing his gritty eyes to close for the first time in what feels like forever. He wakes up with a shock when a hand rests on his shoulder, looking up expectantly at Spud, but he's still out, Ethan's face falling until he looks around, finding Aunt D standing next to the bed, a broken, sympathetic look on her face. "Oh, darlin'," she says softly, cupping Ethan's face.

"I think I know why he won't wake up, Aunt D," Ethan chokes out. She looks confused until he pulls out his phone, showing her a past text. About TNA's future, what Spud would do if he'd need to return to England. "He doesn't want to leave us."

Tears bead in her eyes too as she leans closer and kisses Spud's forehead gently. "Poor baby. I'm doing all I can to keep that from happenin', darlin'. My company isn't going anywhere, I promise ya. I'm gonna fight for it until the final hour. But we're still far, far away from that so don't worry your poor little head about it, ok? Your work visa ain't going to be revoked on my watch. So you open your pretty baby blues and we'll take everything from there, alright, Spud?"

His lack of response to even this is disheartening and Dixie sighs heavily, supporting Ethan as he struggles to unfold his form from the bed and stand. "I don't know what to do anymore, Aunt D," he mumbles, brushing his fingers through Spud's blond hair. "It's so unnatural, him this quiet." His shoulders start to shake anew and she folds him into a protective hug as he grips at her. "There were so many times I just wanted him to stop nagging, and even yelled at him to shut up... I'd give anything to hear his voice right now, even if he could only talk nonstop about Disney nonsense... He saved my life, and I can only sit here and hope, wait, for something... anything to happen..."

Dixie continues to try to sooth Ethan, running her fingers through his dark hair as she stares down at Spud. "You know, Ethan, I know it feels like you're not doin' much for him, but I've gotten to know him pretty well the past couple of years. I'm sure you sittin' by his side and talking to him is doing more for him than you can realize." She kisses his forehead, staring at him warmly. "I can't stay for much longer, but you take care of yourself, alright? Eat, sleep when you can... he'll need you to be strong."

Ethan nods grimly, hugging her once more before she takes her leave, whispering something in Spud's ear before she goes. As soon as they're alone once more, he sits down on the bed, feeling Spud's warmth pressed against his hip through the bedding. "I hope she's right," he tells his best friend, finding his hand and gingerly running his fingers along Spud's. He seems so small, delicate... easily breakable like this... "I hope you know I'm here. That you're not alone."

Days pass, the only things getting Ethan to move from his vigil being the various nurses that come and go or his own need for food, and even then, he's only gone temporarily. When he gets tired, he lays down next to Spud and sleeps as best as he can, lulled by the steadiness of Spud's heartbeat, but for the most time, he sits. Stares. Waits, hopes, and pleads with anything that might be listening. He's not even entirely sure what's happening with TNA, just that nothing significant has changed. The business, like Spud's life, are linked together in his mind for some reason; as long as one continues to be, so will the other...

The status quo is broken up by more incessant talk of moving Spud to a longterm care facility, something that Dixie is thankfully taking time out of her schedule of trying to make deals with other networks to handle for Ethan. The same day that he's transported to a nice enough building across town, it's announced that Spike has agreed to continue broadcasting TNA till the end of the year. Dixie stays with them for a few hours, making sure that Spud settles in comfortably and is treated well by the new staff, her hands steady and warm on Ethan's shoulders. Once things quiet down, Spud's heartbeat the only constant noise in the room, she leans in and whispers to Ethan. "We're close to a new television deal, hon. Don't lose hope. On either of them, alright?" She smiles down at Ethan, mussing his already messy hair, and presses a kiss to his forehead, hating the haunted look in his eyes as she pulls away.

When she leaves, he scoots closer to Spud's bed and takes his hand, trying to hold onto Dixie's advice but not knowing how to. "You were always the optimist of the two of us," he tells Spud. "Even though I was the one giving you pep talks and convincing you you could handle things when you were afraid or feeling weak... I'm not sure how to be that for both of us. My strength always came from your loyalty, because I knew I'd never be alone." He peers over his shoulder, not really caring if they were being listened to, but as an old, meaningless habit. "I've never felt as alone as I do this very moment." He absently brushes his fingers over Spud's knuckles, swallowing hard. "I know it's selfish, but dammit, I'm a Carter, and we're selfish people. So I need you to stop this, I need you to open your eyes and I need you to be a lion... a tiger... and a gazelle, alright?" His voice quiets, his eyes lowered. "But mostly I need you to be my best friend. The same ridiculous guy who ran in front of a car and somehow pushed me away at his own risk."

He chokes up, his words failing him. "I just need you to keep fighting," he continues after a few moments of struggling to control himself. "And I know you will. Because you're Rockstar Spud. And you've never let anyone hold you down, you've always fought to achieve your goals... and you can't let some stupid distracted driver take that all away, alright?" He leans in and rests a hand on top of Spud's head. "I'm just asking you... fight..."

Hours pass. And he's pretty sure the staff here would be less lenient of his staying if not for his aunt's money but, due to that, he's allowed to work on a plate of food and sit next to Spud until he's exhausted once more, stretching out on the bed next to him and falling into a dark, restless sleep yet again. He probably would've stayed like that until mid-afternoon if not for a change in his surroundings. The soft, steady beeping that he'd been falling asleep to for weeks by now has changed, is loud and rapid... almost frantic. He blinks awake and sits up, realizing that a nurse is hovering nearby, her eyes on Spud. He stares at her suspiciously before turning to look at the other man, his entire body freezing when he realizes.

Spud's eyes are open. Just a little bit but he's there, his deep blue eyes locked on Ethan and when Ethan touches him, his heart rate slows. "Hey, hey, can you hear me?" Ethan whispers, leaning closer to stare into his hooded eyes. "Spud?" His heart rate eases even more and Ethan shakes his head, laughing as tears threaten anew to pour down his face. "Shit man, what the hell?" As the nurse runs to call a doctor in, Ethan realizes that he's still too out of it for anything _too_ deep, so he quiets and strokes Spud's fingers, his hair, anything that he thinks might be relaxing. "You're gonna be ok," he promises, not that surprised to find that Spud's fallen back asleep. Not a word spoken, but still he saw his eyes, and he knows that Spud was watching him, weak but definitely back in the land of the living.

The doctor confirms as much, Spud much more reactive during the latest tests they run on him to see where he falls on the Glasgow coma scale. It's going to be slow going but, as Ethan reclaims his place next to Spud and holds his hand after all, he actually feels it. Optimism that Spud will be alright, that TNA will survive this latest network issue, and that they will continue to work together for a long time to come.

He smiles.


End file.
